


Three Colours: White

by elaine



Series: Three Colours [1]
Category: The Sentinel
Genre: M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Underwear Kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-23
Updated: 2013-11-23
Packaged: 2018-01-02 09:36:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1055240
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elaine/pseuds/elaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story was inspired by... well, you'll see what it was inspired by, but the title came from the French series of movies called Three Colours. So naturally, there are two more stories - Blue and Red.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Colours: White

“Blair?” There was no answer, but Jim hadn't expected one. He'd known since he got out of his truck that the loft was empty. He just hadn't wanted to accept it.   
  
“ _Come home early_ ,” Blair had said. “ _We'll celebrate_.”  
  
“ _Celebrate what_?” Jim had asked.  
  
Blair had only shrugged and grinned. “ _We'll think of something_.”  
  
But Blair wasn't home yet, even though Jim was, unavoidably, late. He went upstairs, grumbling under his breath and feeling like an idiot for being so disappointed. Blair was often late, always staying for students who knocked on his office door five minutes before his day was supposed to be over. It was pointless to get his panties in a bunch over it. He'd take a shower, get changed, and wait for Blair to come home so they could start celebrating.  
  
At the top of the stairs, he stopped. There was a crumpled scrap of white cloth in the middle of the bed that hadn't been there when they'd left this morning. Which meant Blair  _had_  come home – at least at some point during the day.  
  
Curious, Jim went over and picked up the cloth, shaking it out. It was thin and silky and elastic. A pair of boxer briefs. A very  _brief_  pair of boxer briefs, smelling faintly of Blair. Not in the sense that he'd worn them, oh no. Jim knew  _that_  scent very well. More like he'd stuffed them inside his shirt for a couple hours.  
  
Jim held them up by the waistband and contemplated for a while. Then he laughed and carried them downstairs to the bathroom. Time for that shower. Blair would no doubt be home very soon.  
  
***  
  
It was actually another twenty minutes before Blair came home and by that time Jim was almost squirming on the bed. It wasn't that the briefs were uncomfortable. If anything, they were a bit  _too_  comfortable. The top fit low and snug against his belly and the legs barely reached the top of his thighs. But the fabric  _clung_ , moulding itself over his cock and balls with an intimacy that he just wasn't used to. He was definitely a 'hang 'em loose' kind of guy and this felt like… like the times Blair would just hold him, gently in the palm of his hand.  
  
He could hear Blair moving around downstairs, dropping his backpack beside the kitchen counter, moving in and out of his old room, which was now his study. Jim didn't call out. Blair knew he was there – his jacket was hanging on the hook by the door, his truck was outside.  
  
Blair's footsteps receded, heading down the hallway towards the shower and Jim bit his lip as he heard the hiss of the water. Blair would be naked in there, and,  _fuck_ , Jim wanted to be naked in there with him; but Blair had left him a message, and Jim knew how to read it. So he waited.  
  
Much quicker than usual, the sound of the shower stopped. Jim held his breath. Blair was in a hurry; he'd be here soon. Jim took a few slow, deep breaths and willed himself to relax. It was all about the anticipation, he got that; but the anticipation was fucking  _killing_  him here.  
  
Finally, he heard Blair's footsteps on the stairs. Blair's actual appearance was preceded by a waft of musk and herbal body soap. He stopped at the end of the bed and surveyed Jim from top to toe, his gaze lingering on the outline of Jim's cock beneath the cloth.  
  
“Starting without me, Jim?” His tone was amused, and his voice low and throaty with desire.  
  
Jim shook his head wordlessly. He could feel a pulse beat in his groin and another in his throat. He'd never been so turned on in his life.  
  
Blair walked over and sat on the edge of the bed, allowing his fluffy white bathrobe to slip open enough to reveal one slim thigh. Jim followed the line of it up into the shadows and almost zoned right there.  
  
A hand on his thigh drew him back, and Blair's voice, calm, authoritative. “That's better. Been waiting long?”  
  
“A while.” Jim swallowed as Blair's face took on the expression of a cat who'd found the cream. He was the cream. He knew that, but sometimes it just… took his breath away. “Twenty minutes. Maybe longer.”  
  
Blair's hand crept further up his thigh. “I've been waiting all day. I came home at lunchtime and dropped these off…” his voice faltered as he gestured towards Jim's groin, “and I haven't been able to stop thinking about them ever since.”  
  
God. Jim groaned softly.  
  
“About how you'd look, wearing them.” Blair's voice dropped to a whisper. “How it would feel to touch you through them, feel them warm from your body…”  
  
“Blair…  _Christ_ …” Jim closed his eyes. He could listen to Blair; he could take that much. Or he could watch Blair devouring him with his eyes, listen to Blair seduce him with those sinful lips and come just from that.  
  
Something touched his thigh, a feather light brush along the leg of his briefs. “But  _this_ … Jesus, Jim, I couldn't have imagined  _this_. I want to just stare at you forever.”  
  
“No…” a breathless little whimper; all he could manage.  
  
“You know, I think I could bring you off just with this…” another fingertip brush, this time across his belly, skimming the waistband.   
  
Jim's belly flinched away from the maddening, barely-there sensation.  
  
“…just this, and telling you how much…”  
  
“… _please_ …” it took all of Jim's self control to lie still.  
  
“…how  _very_  much…” Blair drew in a shuddering breath, “ _God_ … I want you!”  
  
He opened his eyes then, forcing himself to meet Blair's darkened gaze. The blue of his eyes was almost non-existent, just a thin band around the enlarged pupils. Jim lifted his hand, pressing his fingers against Blair's lips. “No more talking. I can't… I'm only human, babe.”  
  
Blair smiled against his fingers, taking Jim's hand and sliding it inside his bathrobe to press it to his chest, where his heart thudded heavily. “No more talking. Just watch.”  
  
He watched. Watched as Blair's eyes dropped to his groin, as Blair's tongue moistened his bottom lip, and wondered why he thought that silence would make this easier. But he watched anyway.  
  
At first Blair continued with the gentlest of touches, teasing at the hem of his briefs, occasionally slipping a finger beneath them to stroke along the crease of his thigh. Never lingering there. Never satisfying the cravings he roused.  
  
Jim's cock was hard now, trapped against his belly by the clinging fabric. He clutched at the bedding and gritted his teeth. He. Would. Not. Beg. But he would moan, it seemed, and whimper almost pitifully.  
  
Blair bent down, dislodging Jim's hand, which was still absently stroking his pierced nipple, and mouthed at Jim's balls through the fabric.  
  
“Oh… oh, babe…” he cupped his hand over the back of Blair's head, directing his movements. Blair allowed it for a few moments, then drew back, smiling.  
  
“Look. Look at yourself, Jim.”  
  
He glanced down, following the direction of Blair's gaze. He could easily see the dark flush of his arousal through the thin fabric clinging, wet and almost transparent with his precome, to the head of his cock. Blair hadn't even touched him there. But, as he watched, Blair lowered his head again and suckled the tip with delicate little movements of his lips.  
  
Jim had to force himself not to thrust up, to demand more from Blair. He'd waited in tingling anticipation for Blair to come to him, and now he was reaping the benefits of his patience. He wasn't going to miss out on  _anything_  that that fertile imagination could conceive.  
  
With one last caress – and a hint of teeth – Blair abandoned his cock, stretching along Jim's body to kiss his mouth. If he'd brushed his teeth, which Jim was sure he had, he hadn't used toothpaste, or tap water to rinse. There was only one taste in Blair's mouth – Jim's. He groaned against Blair's lips and accepted Blair's agile tongue into his mouth.  
  
Blair made a pleased sound and, no doubt as a reward, slipped his hand –  _finally_! – inside the leg of Jim's briefs, stroking lightly over his hip.  _Oh, fuck, yeah_ … Jim arched his back, pushing against Blair's hand. Soon. Soon, he'd have to… even Blair was only human, after all.  
  
The more Jim tried to devote himself to Blair's kisses, the more aware he was of Blair's hand moving so close to his cock without touching it. But when Blair eventually made his move it was downwards, to cup his balls, gently stroking and squeezing, teasing with one fingertip behind them until Jim was shaking with the effort of holding back his climax.  
  
He tore his mouth away from Blair's long enough to gasp, “I  _can't_ …”  
  
“Yes. You can, Jim.” Blair's voice was no nonsense. Determined. “Dial it back a bit. Just a bit.”  
  
Trembling, he forced himself to obey. The pressure eased; barely, but enough to hold it back a bit longer. “Please… I need to…”  
  
Blair's face softened. “Soon, babe. I promise.”  
  
He nodded, accepting the promise. Breathing like he'd run a marathon.  
  
“Is this what you want?” Blair whispered as his hand crept inside the leg of the white briefs again.   
  
He laid his palm lightly along the length of Jim's cock, and when Jim shuddered, he pressed down, still gently. “Move, Jim. Slowly.”  
  
It was almost a physical pain, to hold back. He wanted to thrust and twist and rock into that broad, square palm. He wanted those sensitive fingers wrapped around him, jerking him hard and fast and rough. Instead he slowly undulated his hips, and his cock slid, slick and almost frictionless, against Blair's hand.  
  
And it  _was_  incredible – torment and delight and sensation intermingled. He wanted to dial up until he could feel the ridges of Blair's fingerprints with his cockhead. He wanted to make it last forever.  
  
Blair's voice, saying his name sharply, stopped him on the verge of another zone and Jim forced his eyes to focus on Blair's face. To listen to what he was saying.  
  
“Good. Good, Jim.” Blair leaned down to kiss him, his fingers still tight beneath the head of Jim's cock, holding back the orgasm. He looked wildly dishevelled, as if he'd been on the receiving end, not Jim. “You… you're  _incredible_ …”  
  
Jim dragged a breath into his lungs. “So do I get a prize?”  
  
Blair smiled, slowly. “You get me.”  
  
He couldn't help a tiny whimper as Blair released his cock, but it was worth the loss of contact to see his hands, trembling badly, slip free the tie of his bathrobe. Blair grinned as Jim's eyes dropped below his waistline, but there was still nothing interesting to see, until, with a flash of tanned legs, and a flare of the robe, Blair moved to kneel astride Jim's thighs. Now the robe was hanging open and Jim could see Blair's cock, hard and wet as his own, still shadowed, but that was no barrier for  _him_.   
  
Blair shrugged one shoulder, and the bathrobe slipped a little, hiding his cock again. Jim slid his hand up Blair's thigh, stopping just short of his groin as Blair shrugged his other shoulder. The bathrobe slid down his arms, pooling around Jim's legs, still hiding the lower half of Blair's body. When Jim raised his hand from Blair's thigh the soft terrycloth fell away leaving Blair completely bare all down his left side. The damned bathrobe, however, was still draped decorously across Blair's groin. Jim huffed in frustrated amusement.  
  
With a grin and another shrug, Blair extricated himself from the bathrobe, tossing it down beside them. Jim felt the brush of it against his arm, almost a phantom sensation, and then he forgot about it. Because, Blair – naked and hard – sitting on his thighs slowly, _slowly_ easing those white briefs  over Jim's cock… that was a subject that deserved every bit of attention he could give it.  
  
“ _What_  do I get?” He caught hold of Blair's hand. Held it to his cock suggestively.  
  
The hand moved slowly, teasingly. “Anything you want, Jim. Always.”  
  
“Leave them on.” His throat was tight, making it difficult to speak. “Just like they are now.”  
  
Blair lowered his gaze. The cloth still covered Jim's balls, moving silkily against them whenever Blair stroked up the length of his cock. As sensitised as he was, the feeling was incredible. He groaned helplessly, his hips surging up as Blair leaned over him.  
  
“It's okay, Jim. Just let go.” Blair's whisper was sweet seduction and Jim felt the heat of it flooding through his veins.   
  
He pulled Blair's head down, the freshly scented curls cascading over his face, and captured Blair's mouth with his own. His hands, blindly reaching, mapped the textures of Blair's body – smooth skin and soft coarse hair and slick, burning cock. Unawares, Jim matched Blair stroke for stroke, breath sobbing in his throat.  
  
“Fuck… oh god… Jim…” Blair exploded against him, cock stabbing through the circle of his fingers and when it was over, he sagged down at Jim's side, rolling limply onto his back.  
  
Jim followed. It took a moment before Blair was recovered enough to cooperate and by then Jim was sprawled across his body, his cock sliding roughly against Blair's and sending shivering aftershocks through his lover's body.  
  
“Yeah.” Blair's hands cupped his ass through the thin cloth, urging him on. “Yeah, that's good… 's really good.” He arched up underneath Jim, thrusting back, widening his legs as Jim sank into the cradle of his hips and thighs. His hands reached down to cup Jim's ass and once again the movement of that silky cloth against his skin brought Jim to the edge.  
  
This time, there was no going back. Jim buried his face against Blair's throat, drinking in the heady mingling of sweat and sex, and let himself fall.   
  
  
  
***  
  
  
  
 **much, much later…**  
  
Blair picked up the limp, grubby rag and eyed it suspiciously before dropping it on the bed. Across the bedroom Jim must have caught the movement from the corner of his eye. He looked at the rag and then at Blair. “Throw it in the laundry?”  
  
He didn't sound too certain, which didn't surprise Blair at all. It reeked of sex and god only knew what sentinel senses would detect on that scrap of fabric. “By the time they've been bleached and washed enough to satisfy you, they'll be in shreds. You wouldn't want to wear them anyway, would you?”  
  
Jim grinned and adjusted himself as he walked over to plant a kiss on Blair's mouth. “I don't think I could, babe. Not in public, anyway. But maybe you could buy me another pair some day.”  
  



End file.
